Page 103 of The Highland Laird’s Hellion Bride

Duncan nodded once, his jaw working hard, and briefly put his hand on Magnus’s boot to give it a soft squeeze. It was the most unguarded thing Elspeth had ever seen him do.

He then stepped back and cleared his throat, saying, “I’ll see to the horses,” which there were men enough to do, and they both knew it.

Magnus dismounted and lifted Elspeth down, setting her on her feet and keeping hold of her a moment after. He kept her close, his hands resting on her waist, checking her face with a quick sweep of his eyes.

“I’m standing,” she assured him.

“Aye.” He let go of her waist, slowly, and his hands moved to her shoulders instead, which was technically letting go and technically not.

She heard Mrs. McAulay rush toward her. A sound followed her from somewhere near the kitchen door. It was a high, wordless sound, neither a word nor a wail, but something in between. She had barely turned before she was engulfed.

Mrs. McAulay ’s arms went around her, pulling her in with a fierceness that pressed the air from her lungs. She was shaking, not a little but a great deal, muttering prayers and reprimands into Elspeth’s hair, neither quite completed before the next one started.

“Ye foolish, beautiful bairn,” she tutted. “Ye daft, precious lass.”

“I’m all right, Mrs. McAulay .”

“Ye arenae all right. Ye are covered in ash, and yer hair is disheveled.” Another sound that was not a word. Her arms tightened. “I’ve been standin’ in this yard since Duncan told me, and I’ve made three batches of shortbread. They are all burned, but I daenae care about a single one of them.”

Elspeth put her arms around her and held on, pressing her face into the older woman’s shoulder. Then Mrs. McAulay pulled back, took her face in both hands, and looked at her with red eyes and a very firm chin.

“In the kitchen,” she said, with enormous authority for a woman who was still crying. “Both of ye. Hot water, bannocks, and I will see to that arm of his, whether he wants me to or nae.”

“He willnae want ye to,” Elspeth said.

“He never does.” Mrs. McAulay released her and turned toward Magnus. “Sit down, me Laird.”

Magnus sat.

Katherine arrived at a pace Liam had clearly failed to prevent, breaking through the crowd with one hand pressed flat to her middle and the other reaching for Elspeth before she had fully stopped moving. She pulled her in and held her without speaking—something unusual enough for Katherine that Elspeth stood very still and let her have it.

Then Katherine pulled back and hit her on the arm.

“Ow!”

“Ye absolute disaster of a woman!” Katherine’s eyes were streaming. She hit her again, lighter. “Ye went out alone. Alone, Elspeth! In the dark. On the eve of yer wedding. Ye went out like the heroine of one of yer dreadful novels and nearly gave me a…” She stopped. Pressed her hand to her middle again. Drew a breath. “I have been standing in this courtyard for three hours.”

“Katherine!”

“Three hours, Elspeth! Liam tried to have me sit down. I told him what he could do with the chair, and he had the good sense to put it away.”

“I believe ye.”

“I wrote ye a letter.” Katherine wiped her face with her sleeve, which did very little. “I wrote ye a letter while I was waiting, in case…” She stopped again. Her chin wobbled once. “It was a very long letter.”

“I should like to read it.”

“Ye absolutely may nae.”

Katherine took both her hands, saw the redness on her wrists, and her expression shifted, the scolding giving way to something quieter and softer. She turned Elspeth’s hands over slowly, looking at them, and then cradled them between her own very gently.

“Ye’re all right,” she said, which was not a question but needed saying anyway. “Ye’re actually all right.”

“Aye.” Elspeth squeezed her hands. “Aye, Katherine, I am.”

Katherine closed her eyes for three seconds, breathing deeply through her nose. Then she opened them, straightened up, and looked across the yard to where Magnus was enduring Mrs. McAulay ’s attentions on his arm.

“What a man! He found ye,” she said.